Relative Perspective
by alowlypotato
Summary: COMPLETE!; season one AU; keepin DA alive through fanfic, WOO! An Eyes Only case leads Max to a life-affirming discovery; VERY M/L, pretty damn sexy, semi-sequel to 'Better than Okay' (but both can be read and understood separately)
1. One

A/N: Gaaahhh! Outrage! It's almost been a week since news of cancellation and I still can't really believe it. Bwaaaah, evil-doers of doom they be. Anyway, if you haven't already checked out the DA Nation campaign, do so: http://adinfinit.net/danation. We may not be able to get a season three, but at least we can work for a resolution.  
  
Anywho, there will always be the 42 episodes we got and there will always be fanfiction, and as long as DA continues to inspire me (which probably is gonna be a pretty damn long time), I know I'll continue to write. And in that respect, DA will never die...at least not until we decide that it is time. Yay!  
  
But yeah. About this story. For those of you who haven't read 'Better than Okay' (though if you're looking for straightforward smut, I highly suggest that you do *hint hint nudge nudge wink wink know what I mean*), imagine 'The Kidz Are Aiight' ending with shippery goodness. Logan's immune system doesn't reject Max's blood, things are confessed, a poor defenseless bed is subjected to a night of what it perceives to be torture. This story takes place a few weeks later, when Eyes Only is getting back to business...  
  
WHAT'S UP WITH THE RATING?: R for sexual content, adult themes and probably some violence. Wow, I feel so professional...  
  
Our Good Friend MR. DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately, some fuckish fuckheads have the rights to Dark Angel and not me. Poo on them.  
*******  
  
  
  
He supposed that he had felt a presence approaching before arms had snaked around his body from behind and hands had come to hold him against the back of the chair, warm familiar lips grazing his neck and nipping at his earlobe. He'd simply been too involved to notice; this was an interesting and far less impersonal case than most of those with which he dealt and he was trying to make up his mind about it. The request he had received wasn't something to be taken lightly, especially since his last attempt at offering protection had wound up landing him in a wheelchair for the better (or worse) half of the year.  
  
"Whatcha doin?" she whispered huskily, her breath tickling his ear. He shuddered but remained composed nonetheless; of course he wanted to play but there was work to be done. He ignored the ministrations of her hands, which were presently massaging his chest, and eventually she got the point and settled her head in the crook of his neck, content to hold him for the moment.   
  
"Just thinking about this case," he replied after a sigh and a few moments' silence. "This woman has gone through a lot of trouble to contact me and she seems genuinely scared, but...I don't want to take a chance that I might later regret."  
  
She chuckled softly and tousled his hair. "Since when are you, Logan Cale, super cybercrusader extraordinaire, 'defender of truth, justice, and the American way,' afraid of taking risks?" He couldn't resist smiling and then had to think long and hard about the question, seriously beginning to wonder why he had grown so cautious in the past few weeks when sense dictated that the newly regained use of his legs should infuse him with confidence. A few seconds later his face reddened and he reached up to itch his temple in order to hide it from her; now that their relationship had advanced he had become more concerned than previously for her well-being and he felt silly for it. She was an X-5, for Christ's sake...when was he going to learn that she was perfectly capable of handling herself physically? All right, so, if he hadn't stepped in and short-circuited that implant she probably wouldn't be snuggling into his shoulder at the moment but that was a completely different story. He focused and let himself relax.  
  
"Oh, I don't know...I must be getting old," he joked and she kissed his temple in amusement and approval. "Anyway, this woman's been hiding out in Montana for some time but she had to uproot and go on the run. The closer she got to Seattle, the more she heard about Eyes Only and his contributions, and now she's seeking me out for protection."  
  
"Protection from what?" Max huffed, frustrated. "Why was she hiding in the first place? You're cute when you're vague but it's not doing much good right now."  
  
"She wouldn't specify," he returned with a shrug. "All she said was that she was prepared to kill should the need arise, but that there's far too many of them and they're far too powerful for her to hold off alone. I mean, she didn't even give her name, Max. She didn't say what she looks like, either...too dangerous."  
  
To his surprise, Max let out a sharp, quick laugh of disbelief and rendered memory the heated sensation of her body pressed against him from behind. She walked out into the open of the main room before turning back and throwing up her hands. "Well, great. So she wants you to protect her but she's so paranoid that apparently she wants you to do it using those incredible psychic powers of yours...except wait, you don't have any." She moved beside him and leaned against the computer table in the way she always did, hip thrust outward and drawing his attention until he reminded himself of the task at hand and fixed his vision safely on her eyes. "I think I can understand why you're not all gung-ho about jumpin' into this one, hun."  
  
For some reason his resolve faded at that comment and his growing desire to touch her overrid his better judgment. He reached forward and placed his hand securely on her hip, pulling her slightly closer to him while letting his thumb slide just barely under the hem of her shirt. She smiled that seductive, feline smile of hers and he wondered for perhaps the millionth time whether they'd ever be able to rightly balance work and play.  
  
"You didn't let me finish," he said flirtaciously with a smile whose tone matched her own. "She DID say how she wants my operative to distinguish him or herself. Red shirt, sunglasses, black pants with the left hand in the pocket. It's a little corny, I know, but hey...if that's the way she wants it, so be it. If those people are bad enough to scare her like this, I figure it's probably in the interest of everybody that I investigate, and you know me; right now that's the biggest reason I haven't tossed this whole thing out the window."  
  
She smirked and covered his hand with her own, imploring him to tease her further and allowing him to draw her in even closer. "Always gotta be so valiant. Blah blah woof woof," she quipped and he finally pulled her down to him, giggling along with her as she pretended to struggle and then settled comfortably into his lap. "Anyway...it sounds stupid but she's really being pretty smart, setting it all up like that. She chickens out or someone she wished she didn't know pops up, she can slip out without revealing who she is. Not bad."  
  
"Guess not," he mumbled. He was really losing it; almost of their own accord his lips had found their way to her neck and he was beginning to forget what they were discussing. However, by this point Max had come to realize the importance of the case and had begun to develop an amount of interest in it, so momentarily she was able to quell the rush of hormones and stick to business.  
  
"So when and where do we gotta meet this chick?' she inquired, wondering how much longer she was going to be able to last when his hand slipped fully under her shirt and set ablaze the small of her back.  
  
"Tomorrow morning...7:00...library...suburb a few miles from here," he rasped. My god, something needed to be done about this arrangement...  
  
"Okay then." Satisfied, she took his head between her hands and brought it around so that she could kiss him firmly on the mouth, effectively marking the beginning of today's games. 


	2. Two

The library was as painfully ordinary as the rest of the town; despite the relative absence of technology, the entire place seemed rather untouched by the Pulse and it was both comforting and unnerving. Comforting because the people around here had worked together to rebuild and had created a more friendly, homely atmosphere than existed in most other places nowadays. Unnerving for the same reason, because Max wasn't used to it and she wasn't sure how to react. She looked to Logan for some kind of support, someone perhaps with whom to share her feelings, but he looked content and seemed to be enjoying his surroundings. She recalled that he had grown up before the Pulse and felt terribly alone for the first time in a great many weeks.  
  
He had come along as an extra precaution, as a sort of back up in case things went awry. If there was an ambush, Max could hold off the attackers while Logan rushed the mystery woman to temporary safety. If this were a trap, an enclosed vehicle would offer far more protection than Max's Ninja. And if all went according to plan, it would prove much easier to transport their charge by car rather than by motorcycle. There was an abundance of advantages and beyond those already described, it certainly didn't hurt to use this case as one more excuse to spend every second possible together.  
  
"You ready?" he asked as the car lurched forward and he deftly shifted it into park. Something about the way the early morning sunlight drifted through the driver's side window made him look irresistible, almost angelic, and she wanted briefly to answer with one of the many seductive phrases that had presently entered her mind. Excess was not a virtue, though, and after the events of the previous night, jumping him now would definitely fall under the category of excess. It was important that they find some sort of distraction to keep themselves off of each other for more than two seconds at a time. There was a deeper connection between them than some of their actions would suggest and that would fade if they didn't break for fresh air every now and then; they'd become jaded and grow apart, and that was the last thing she wanted to have happen. So today was going to be about work, and maybe tonight they'd talk instead of touching. Ugh. Look but don't touch? This whole relationship thing is damn difficult.  
  
She shrugged. "As I'll ever be." She pulled on her sunglasses and flipped her hair behind her shoulders, then turned to face him and tried to hide that pesky ever-present desire of hers. "How do I look?"  
  
'Gorgeous,' he wanted to say, but from the look in her eyes he knew such a comment was likely to end the approaching investigation before it had even begun, so he simply grinned and offered up a chaste, "exactly how she wanted you to." His stunning operative gave him a look that said, 'how lame can ya get,' but the important thing here was to keep the two of them in check and that objective had been accomplished, so all was well. She shook her head and chuckled lightly, probably at his expense, then patted him affectionately on the thigh and exited the car, meandering slowly up to the front of the library.  
  
Slow was the only pace at which she felt comfortable around here; everything was so different from most places she'd seen and that was very interesting to her, in both good ways and bad. The people seemed happier and better off and she liked that, but at the same time she didn't trust any of them because of it. It was still hard for her to accept anything other than malcontent, and finally giving in to her feelings for Logan was merely a step in the right direction; one couldn't hope to eradicate 19 years' worth of ice with one month-long period of melting.  
  
She finally reached the building and leaned against it, surveying that which spread out before her with the air of a monarch overlooking her kingdom. Habitually, she folded her arms across her chest, and looking at the people and how they moved so routinely but with such content made her wish to be a part of them, and she imagined that she was and forgot for a moment where she was, the thoughts and feelings being those that she so often mulled over while on the Space Needle. She snapped back to reality when her vision traipsed over the sight of Logan watching from the Aztec, apparently trying to get her attention. Her back straightened and her pupils dilated and she saw clearly the movements of his hand, coming up and then moving downward as if to enter his pocket. She shook her head in confusion and when he mouthed the words 'left hand, pocket,' she felt like such a forgetful ass that she wanted to slap herself. With amusing haste she stuffed her hand into her pocket, as had been demanded by the mystery woman, and stuck her tongue out at Logan when he erupted in laughter. She'd get him for that...  
  
A few moments later, her attention was drawn to a Hispanic woman who was eyeing her suspiciously. She studied the stranger for a minute, judging her to be either in her late 30's or early 40's, and from the apprehension displayed by the poor thing it became very apparent that this was the woman for whom they had come. Max nodded conspiratorially to her charge and slowly the woman made her way over, trying to look casual and not doing a particularly good job of it. She was too tense to appear normal; too jittery and too obvious in her movements. How she had survived on the lam was presently as much a mystery to Max as was her identity.  
  
After a good five minutes of very obviously tying to blend in, the stranger finally came up beside Max, leaning next to her and fidgeting nervously.  
  
"He sent you?" she whispered. Max scowled and shook her head, growing increasingly aggravated in regards to this individual's behavior.  
  
"Naw, it's just a freakish coincidence that I'm dressing and standing exactly how you wanted," she bit back, immediately regretting it when the woman cast her an angry glance laced with very real fear. What right was there to judge? She was just a norm, she didn't know any better...she was trying to make it and that's the best that anyone could really be expected to do in this broken world. Max sighed and hung her head. "Sorry...yeah, we're here for you."  
  
The woman tightened and flattened against the wall. "We?!" A convoy was NOT for what she had asked.  
  
Max gestured toward Logan, her forehead wrinkling in confusion. "Strength in numbers, lady. Relax." She was unable to comprehend the reasons behind her new companion's heightened anxiety, trained as she was to value teamwork. Two people working synchronically together can do far more than one working on his or her own, right? Why were there so many people who didn't realize this? Zack didn't seem to get, it either... Anyway, paranoia is one thing, but common sense seemed lacking and that was disappointing. What fun is there in protecting an idiot who's probably going to end up getting him or herself killed anyway?  
  
Still, she was developing a sense of responsibility and sympathy toward this woman and figured that she should do all in her power to make her feel more comfortable. They weren't about to let her spend too much time with Logan, 'lest they should risk inadvertently screwing over the entire Eyes Only operation, so Max had already been designated as she who would take care of their little mystery gal. Friendship was an institution and institutions breed security so she might as well start now.  
  
"Um...we're probably gonna be spending a lot of time together, so..." She awkwardly extended her hand, as yet uncomfortable with such formalities. "What's up, I'm Max."  
  
It was then her turn to flatten against the wall, taken aback by the piercing intensity of the stranger's ensuing stare. She had the sensation of being seen through and through, beyond what she knew to be the Max of today to everything and maybe things that she herself didn't understand. The short distance between them had been occupied somewhere along the way by a microscope and she squirmed...studied, she was being studied. Like some two-bit science project...they had looked at her this way so often at Manticore...  
  
And then it had passed and it was just fear again, combined with Max's new sense of something amiss, something she couldn't quite put her finger on and that she didn't want to admit existed. She looked away and swallowed, trying not to abort this mission.  
  
"Well...do you have a name?"  
  
For some reason it seemed wrong to have asked it in such a way, and the woman's breath hitched momentarily, but apparently they were both equally good at stifling emotions, even if a few unwanted ones leaked out every now and then.  
  
"Deleana," the woman replied at last, taking Max's hand. "Deleana Hererra." The shook hands briefly, both feeling oddly unnerved by the contact and then suddenly Deleana was hard and stiff and the only strange thing about her became her seemingly transient demeanor. "Now let's get out of her," she commanded.  
  
Max took the hint and also stoned herself, the girl who had originally broken into Logan's penthouse taking over. Aloof, detached, whatever. "With ya there, Dee," she said as she pulled herself away from the wall.  
  
"Ms. Hererra," Deleana quickly corrected. The new mask she wore demanded respect and Max had nothing better to do, so...  
  
"Er...Ms. Hererra..."  
  
Deleana smiled in satisfaction and they began to move away from the library, Max swiftly passing the woman and increasingly eager to escape to the safety of Logan's company and get this woman to the chosen safe house as quickly as possible. She was stopped by the ministrations of a hand, though, one which grabbed her elbow and held her back and which belonged to the very person with whom she didn't feel like dealing.  
  
"No," the woman stated firmly. "I stay in front of you. That way I'm never out of your sight."  
  
She then proceeded to move ahead of a gaping Max, who wondered how she had overlooked such a detail when she was supposed to be the smarter one.  
*******  
  
Post.Script: Sorry about the overall lack of shippiness, you guys...there's not gonna be much in chapter 3, either, but chapter 4 will make up for it. :D I'm yet another of those who has come to work on a No Review, No Updates policy, though, so...yeeeeeah.  
  
Oh, and to Becky: you're close! Hehehehehehehehehe! 


	3. Three

If there was one thing at which Deleana Hererra was especially good, it was at keeping quiet.  
  
Max had had Original Cindy cover for her at JamPony and she and Logan had spent a good part of the day trying their damnedest to pull from Deleana any worthy bit of information possible. The woman mainly retained a stony silence, though, and claimed that, before divulging her story, she had to make absolutely sure that she could trust the two of them. For her, it was either build a solid foundation or allow her secrets to remain as such. Logan subsequently found himself trying not to scream in frustration and an impatient Max, who continued to feel wholly out of place around this woman, turned to her usual mask of sarcasm to hide her discomfort.  
  
"Oh, yeah, you can't trust us," she scowled. "We're totally out to get you; that's why we're going through all this trouble to protect you."  
  
Deleana had wavered slightly at that, explaining cryptically that she'd made a mistake and that she's had to deal with "them" ever since. She didn't mean to be so distant and paranoid; it was just that she'd been on the run and kept to herself for all of 16 years and it was hard, and she needed some time. Any further attempts to get her to talk had seemed futile, so the two "operatives" had taken their leave, much to Max's relief.  
  
Unfortunately for her, though, it was a new day and supplies were needed and, as had been realized earlier, Logan's involvement was going to have to be kept to a bare minimum, so with a bag of food and necessity she headed toward the safe house bright and early and filled with dread. She was unable to comprehend the aversion she had developed to Ms. Hererra and supposed that it was unfounded, but it existed all the same and the prospect of being the woman's "babysitter" didn't exactly fill her with glee.  
  
She entered the small room quietly, taking extra precaution in case her charge was asleep and hoping that such was true. In that event, she could enter, deposit the groceries and exit as quickly as she had come, never having to speak or so much as make eye contact. Instead she found the bed empty and her heart fell at the sight of Deleana sitting upright in the single armchair that resided by the old-fashioned radiator, seemingly waiting for Max's arrival. For a brief instant the X-5 could only stand at the door and stare, but then a fabricated and apprehensive smile spread across her face and she moved swiftly to the bed, dropping the bag unceremoniously onto it and paying little mind when it tipped over.  
  
"Hey, Ms. Hererra," she said, trying to sound cheerful. "Gotcha some toys." And then it was done and before the room could suffocate her she moved backed toward the door, knowing her actions would seem strange but at the moment focusing only on the need of her nerves. However, she didn't make it there; Deleana apparently felt the need for conversation today.  
  
"I'm not happy with this arrangement, you know," she said softly but with an air of stern importance. "I don't feel safe."  
  
Max's shoulders slumped and she glanced longingly toward the door, then with a dejected sense of duty turned back to the woman, wondering what in the hell her problem could be. As of late, she was shaping up to be nothing more than a hassle.  
  
"Ms. Hererra, this is a SAFE house," she said, trying very hard not to roll her eyes. She then gestured toward the pistol that lay on the lone bedside table. "And we even let you keep your gun."  
  
" 'Safe house' is just a title and one gun can only do so much," Deleana pointed out matter-of-factly. "I want something more secure."  
  
"Well, ya know what they say...beggars can't be choosers."  
  
"How trite," Deleana chuckled.  
  
"How profound," Max retorted bitterly. Silence then passed between them and pounded loudly in Max's ears, urging her to utter a clipped farewell and escape the thick atmosphere and the undeniable tension. But then the woman was staring at her again, into her eyes, intense as her gaze had been at the previous day's meeting and burning through the younger girl. Max was a specimen again, open and naked and the subject of a strange confusion laced with familiarity. Her skin alighted and she felt the sting of a million pinpricks and the ignition of a million tiny fires, so different from the achingly pleasurable ones that Logan so commonly set nowadays, and she had to lower her eyes. This was so weird...so terribly weird...  
  
"Anyway..." she muttered in an effort to break Deleana's concentration. It worked; Max felt the woman look away, embarrassed and trying to compose herself. In seconds she was again hard and stiff, and though escape still existed as the presently paramount course of action, Max relaxed a little and stood still and at attention, sensing that the woman had something else to say and preparing herself to listen.  
  
"Yes, anyway," Deleana began. "I honestly don't see why I can't say with Eyes Only himself. The two of you, as well as that Logan guy, would both be able to keep a much better eye on me." She smiled slightly at the pun.  
  
"Out of the question," Max answered firmly. "It would compromise his identity; figured you of all people would understand that."  
  
"I heard that he let some woman and her daughter stay with him once," Deleana pointed out.  
  
"That was a completely different situation. And besides, you could be some kinda spy."  
  
"I am NOT a spy."  
  
"Maybe not, but you good be a damn good liar and that's a chance we can't take." Deleana's face fell at that and Max found herself uplifted by a fresh surge of confidence. Whether or not she felt at ease around this woman, it was in her nature to feel good about climbing on top of the situation and approaching the title of victor, so she beamed and pressed on. This strategy might be just what was needed to drag the desired information from dear Ms. Hererra; Logan would be proud. "And ya know, I find it strange that you say you don't know if you can trust any of us but then you turn around and wanna shack up in Eyes Only's place."  
  
Deleana sighed meekly. "I'm scared," she choked out, her voice barely above a whisper. A part of Max felt a little bad but she shoved it down, recognizing sentiment and sympathy as hindrance in a situation such as this.  
  
"We're all scared," she stated, "but letting it take you over like this never helped anybody." She checked her watch then, knowing full well that being late to work after having ditched a day was not a smart course of action if she wanted to keep her ears intact. That same small part of her didn't exactly feel right about leaving, but again sensitivity was not to be employed in this case and if she left now it would allow Ms. Hererra to think long and hard on this.  
  
"Look, I gotta go. I'm gonna be late for work. But the thing is, the way you act when it comes to these people who are after you bothers Eyes Only and he needs to know a hell of a lot more about them. Not just to protect you better, but to stop them from doing this kinda shit to other people. Now, you come through and tell us what's up, and we'll see about setting you up with Eyes, okay?"  
  
Deleana nodded slowly, her eyes downcast and her demeanor that of one feeling defeat. Her protector than slipped out rather cheerfully, dismissing her foolish anxiety and feeling for the first time like maybe this case was actually going somewhere.  
*******  
  
Post.Script: Don't worry, kids...next chapter = ship-tastic. And there's only 3 more chapters until Deleana's identity is revealed, WOOT!  
  
Yeah...on another note, this story isn't going to be very long, at least not nearly as long as 'The Weakness.' But I definitely plan on making it a series (I've already got a prequel planned), so such shall be made up for. Weeeeee. 


	4. Four

A/N: My god, I'm writing so fast...this is uncharacteristic of the Kimbo. *shrug* Anyway, you guys are gonna LOVE the beginning of this, hahaha.  
  
Um, I'm really worried about letting people down, though, so I'll say right now that this IS the most sexually graphic part of the story so far but it's not just straightfoward shippiness; there's some very important plot development, too. But, ya know what kids? I'm starting to get into the whole smut-tastic groove, so imagine what the future could bring. A more elaborate, NC-17 version of what the first few paragraphs of this chapter imply? I think I'm gonna look into doing that...muahahahahaha. Yes. Okay. You've been warned...  
*******  
  
  
She fell giggling onto the bed and nimbly slipped her fingers into the loopholes of his pants to pull him quickly on top of her. Hands slid up his bare chest and grinning lips met fiercely, slapping together between brief periods of heavy breathing and grunts of exertion. He settled himself between her legs and hoisted himself up onto his elbows and then made his way down her neck, leaving puckered red circles where he sucked her flesh into his mouth only to release it seconds later. He moved down to the hollow in her throat, then followed her collarbone to the left and with one hand reached up to slip her bra strap off of her shoulder. Its path was followed by a trail of hot, wet kisses and she reached between them and his hips jerked involuntarily when she touched his arousal through his pants.  
  
Her bra was removed torturously slow but then it was off, tossed over the side of the bed and promptly forgotten. Attention was now focused on her exposed upper half and low moans were forced past her lips and she squirmed wantonly under him as he slowly made his way down, licking the indent of her ribcage and dipping into her navel and growing dangerously close to the waistline of her jeans. His thumb trailed over her abdomen and pushed just slightly inside her pants; this was the fire she liked, the fire for which she now lived. He was so amazing...he was so wonderful and she ached for him and urged him on with her quiet whimpers of desperation. He grinned wickedly at her as he unfastened the garment and pulled it down her legs, tickling her thighs as he did so, brushing just the right areas and delighting in her movements and the way her eyes practically pleaded for what she knew was going to come. And then the final barrier was removed and she pushed her head back into the pillow and closed her eyes and let him have her way with her, wondering how they had managed to last a whole two days without this.  
  
Later on, in the afterglow of over an hour of amazing sex, she lay sated on his chest, listening to the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat. He was already asleep; she could tell from the steadiness of his breathing, and she couldn't blame him after what they had done. She smiled at the fresh memory and at the warmth that still spread through her and at the incredible love she felt for him, the love that for so long she didn't think she was capable of feeling and that she didn't think was capable of being felt toward her. And she stared at the digital clock on his nightstand, the green numbers soft and relaxing and burning the time 11:32 into her mind. They took over and everything became hazy and she slipped away into the precious sleep that was a rarity for her.  
  
Her dreams were innocuous at first. She felt comfortable and content and she melted into a hug though she was confused by the gesture. Who is this person? Why do they feel the need to touch me? I do not know them. Am I supposed to be doing this? Is this wrong? The colonel never does this...  
  
And then she was running, like she always was in her dreams, running for her life because if she stopped it was very likely that she would be killed. They would drag her away and put her in that room with the big knife that's attached to the motor, and the big light that blinds and all the people with the masks that cover your whole body, and they would cut her up and they would put her down with the 'nomalies. That's what Ben said, at least. Ben was never wrong. He'd said they'd do it to Jack if they didn't protect him. And he had been right.  
  
So she ran, and then they put her in the tank and she wanted to get out but she kept right on holding her breath anyway. She thought it was very possible that she might die but oh well. I am not a 'nomalie. I am not a 'nomalie. Even if I have to drown to prove it, I am not a 'nomalie.  
  
3-3-2-9-6-0-0-7-3-4-5-2.  
  
"...no one can withstand torture indefinitely..."  
  
3-3-2-9-6-0-0-7-3-4-5-2.  
  
"...you can train yourself to forget..."  
  
3-3-2-9-6-0-0-7-3-4-5-2.  
  
It burns, oh god it burns. Pain. Pain. Pain. Life is all about pain.  
  
3-3-2-9-6-0-0-7-3-4-5-2.  
  
But oh well, I will deal. If this is how life must be than I will deal. Because I am not a 'nomalie.  
  
And there was more running, and there was killing, and there was sadness and there was pain. Ben kept telling them that the Blue Lady would protect them, but still people were killed and they had to kill people and it felt wrong but they did it anyway because they trusted him even if this time it seemed like he might not know the answers. And they were scared, she was so fucking scared but if this was life than so be it. I AM NOT A 'NOMALIE.  
  
There had been a time before when it wasn't so bad, though. A time that she was beginning to forget. A time when they were too young for intense training, so it was study and obedience drills that dominated their time. And during that time someone had held her and she had been told not to think about it, so now it was just a blur. But it was there, prodding her and trying to surface through the hardship and all the rotten horrible things that had gone on.  
  
"Do you have a name?"  
  
"Yeah...Kristina."  
  
"Hello, Kristina."  
  
And then someone was screaming, screaming her name, screaming "Max" and then it was gone, and it was back to running and comfort was in the good place and you don't go to the good place unless you die, because every time someone died Ben said that they had gone to the good place. Two plus two equals four. They'd never get there, ever...  
  
"Max!"  
  
She awoke with a start, half expecting to be lying on her cot in the barracks and momentarily confused when she saw the mass of skin upon which she truly lay. She collected herself and sighed in relief, kissing Logan's chest and thanking whatever deity might exist that she had found him and that she was here, in as close a facsimile of the "good place" as she was probably ever going to experience. She looked over to the clock again; 11:50. Less than twenty minutes she had slept. Typical. Fearing another dream, she resolved not to let herself drift off again, instead spending the night thinking and staring off into space, as she usually did.  
  
*******  
  
He awoke expecting warmth but instead there was cold, and he looked and she wasn't beside him and those characteristic insecurities welled up inside of him. He had done something wrong and she had fled. He should have seen it coming, he shouldn't have actually believed that she could want him, a norm, a man that even with his legs was still broken. He sighed and tried to focus on the fact that at least he had gotten those few amazing weeks with her and instead lapsed into a pathetically familiar depressive mood.  
  
And then an equally familiar sound filled his ears and he propped himself up on his elbows, noticing the closed bathroom door and the golden light that poured out from under it. The water ran freely for a few seconds and then the shower came on and he felt like slapping himself; you idiot, she didn't leave you, she's taking a shower. He chuckled at his idiocy and briefly considered joining her, then decided instead to pull on a pair of boxers and surprise her with breakfast. Not that it would be much of a surprise; she probably expected it of him at this point, but oh well. It would still make her happy.  
  
He had finished twenty minutes later, just as she was emerging, clad only in a bath towel. He felt like dumping his morning creation down the sink and doing something about that towel, but somehow he managed to control himself and offer her a plate, for which he was rewarded with a kiss. They sat next to each other at the counter and began eating, and to his displeasure she was relatively silent and detached and those fears cropped up again and turned his stomach.  
  
"Is...something wrong?" he asked warily. She huffed and put down her fork, a look of determination crossing her features.  
  
"I've just been thinking," she said. Oh, this is it, he thought. It's over...and then she spoke, and he was relieved, but he didn't dare let on. "That Hererra chick just seems so uncomfortable being in that safe house, and...I told her yesterday that until she starts talking we aren't gonna budge, but you know I don't sleep much and I had a lot of time to think last night and I was wondering if...maybe, if it's possible...if you could let her stay here?" She cringed slightly when she finally managed to get out her request and he sighed heavily and rested his hands on his thighs.  
  
"Max, you know how dangerous that would be," he said softly.  
  
"I know, but...she's so scared, Logan. And I know what it's like to be that scared. It sucks. Isn't there anything we can do?"  
  
He looked into her eyes and the pleading caved him, the sentiment and the desire to help so unlike her but so wonderful to see that he couldn't resist giving in somewhat. "Well...okay, look. You told her we wouldn't budge until she gave up some information; stick with that. Try to get close to her these next few weeks and pull as much as you can out of her and we'll see what happens, okay? I understand, but I'm really bothered by all of this and I wanna be as careful as possible." He covered her hand with his own to illustrate the point and she didn't look as happy as he would have liked, but she nodded and complied just the same.   
  
And then her eyes lifted, as well as her demeanor, and she turned her palm upward and entwined her fingers with his, displaying that smile that she saved just for him.  
  
"In the meantime...it's a Sunday, and I don't gotta work, so...looks like you're stuck with me for the day."  
  
"Oh, whatever shall I do?" he joked with a grin. He leaned in to kiss her and gently tugged on her bath towel until it dropped to the floor in a heap. She chuckled softly into his mouth and hooked her fingers around the hem of his boxers as his hands worshipped her body, and though it didn't exactly get dumped down the sink, the bulk of the food did, after all, end up going to waste. 


	5. Five

----3 weeks later----  
It was hard to sleep this past night. The flashes came so frequently in her dreams, flashes of things that only had meaning in a time she wanted to forget. She had been trying to convince herself that that's all they were, old memories resurfacing for no reason other than that she was stressed out and that the anniversary of her escape was approaching. But a small part of her kept saying that they had to do with now and that they were a warning.  
  
She was beginning to believe that inner voice, beginning to grow certain that what she had suspected from the start was true and that she had been stupid to have allowed it to drag out this far. If she left now they would know, and they would find her. She remembered being told that no one could run without leaving a trail; it was one of the scare tactics they used to stop she and her companions from trying to flee. Escape was difficult but it was possible (she wouldn't presently be in this position if that wasn't true), so not only did they try to physically prevent it but also they tried to mentally and emotionally discourage it. In any case, she knew that if her suspicions were correct she would be found rather quickly and that this time she would have no one to whom to run.  
  
She shook her head as she pulled herself around and planted her feet firmly on the floor, lifting gently off the bed and padding over to the small suitcase in which she kept her clothes and what sparse belongings she saw need to carry. She was being ridiculously silly. Years of sorrow were simply causing her to make too much of a small coincidence.  
  
In any case, there was now sufficient trust when it came to Max and so the time had come when she was ready to reveal some things. She inwardly tensed slightly at the thought of finally giving in, once again taking stock of the consequences that might befall her if she was indeed correct. Sense told her that it wouldn't make any sense for them to play that game; but they certainly were cruel enough to at least think of doing something so hideously ironic, to punish and to hammer into her mind that she belonged to them and that she was not to disobey, ever. Max probably wouldn't even realize what had been done...no, no. She was over-analyzing. Everything was safe and she was in good hands.  
  
Her protector entered seconds later, smiling and carrying a bag of groceries. Things had started off rather rocky but now Max and Deleana were fairly comfortable with one another and it wasn't so bad. Not bad at all. Of course, such familiarity didn't change the fact that Deleana was now incredibly nervous, still mulling over whether or not this would be the day that she would begin to tell her harrowing tale.  
  
"Hey, Dee," Max greeted cheerfully. The cheer left when she met Deleana's eyes, though, distant and anxious. "What's wrong?"   
  
Deleana gulped, then decided to throw caution to the wind and go for it. "I...I'm ready to tell some things. SOME. I...can't tell everything. Not yet, anyway."  
  
Max felt her pulse quicken and forgot the bag, which remained securely in her arms as the woman became the focus of her undivided attention. "Go on..." she prodded.  
  
"Well, I told you I made a mistake, right?" she began. Max quickly nodded, so eager, so ready...what if she was just waiting for confirmation, and then... No, stop it. She's just doing her job for Eyes Only. Deleana shut her eyes briefly, took in a deep breath and willed herself to continue. "Okay...about, oh, 20 years ago, I needed some money. Well, my mom needed some money...I did it all for her, you see. Anyway, I wanted to help her but I didn't want to go out and get myself a job because I wanted to be able to stay in college. So I did some searching, and...I came across this program, and I thought 'well, here's something I can easily do while studying' and I signed up. I mean...they said, they said that all they needed was for me to come in for biweekly check-ups. Half a million dollars! And I'd just have to come for some check-ups for about a year."  
  
The rate of Max's pulse had doubled in speed as the woman talked, her complexion paling as she rapidly began to connect the dots. It couldn't be, could it? This couldn't be one...one of them... "Ch...check-ups? Why?" she stammered.  
  
"It was...they said it was just a medical experiment," Deleana explained quietly, at the moment too caught up in her memories to notice the change in Max. "They used to have those, you know. They'd pay you to volunteer." And then she noticed, and she felt her suspicions welling up and she was afraid and she had to scream at herself to keep calm. "Why...why are you so pale?"  
  
Max laughed nervously and wanted for the first time in at least two weeks to escape the room and the tension, and then her strength drained from her and her arms gave out and the bag succumbed to the ministrations of gravity, its contents spilling out over the floor. "Heh, clumsy me," she choked and then she bent down to clean up her mess, taking the opportunity to tear her eyes from the woman and work at collecting her thoughts. Her hair slid off her neck and bounced around her shoulders but she didn't notice, or if she did she didn't care.  
  
But now she was exposed.  
  
Now there was no more wondering or worry because it was true what had been thought, and the small black mass was right there and the numbers were as plain as day and there wasn't any more dwelling on the fear because there couldn't be. Deleana lunged for the bedside table, scolding herself for having been so stupid. She grabbed the gun, without thought, without care, except for herself. Survival was important and survival meant eliminating the enemy like she had been eliminating them for over a decade now.  
  
"Don't move," she implored forcefully.  
  
Max froze, the significance of her now parted mane suddenly coming to her attention and she moved her face barely an inch, only far enough so that out of the corner of her eye she could see the gun. There had been something wrong all along and she had dismissed it...she scolded herself for having been so stupid.  
  
"Now I don't care how revved up you are," Deleana spat, "you so much as twitch from here on out and you're dead."  
*******  
  
Post.Script: Oh I'm so excited, you guys. I'm probably getting as much into this as you are...I even couldn't help myself and I wrote the first chapter of the prequel, hahahahdlfkajfa. I can honestly say that I've never created a character I've loved to write as much as I love to write Deleana.  
  
Anyway (though I'm sure the majority of you have figured it out by now), everything will be revealed in chapter 6, my friends. And we'll see who speculated correctly... 


	6. Six

"S...stand up."  
  
She stood, slowly, and she saw the opportunity and, scared as she was, she couldn't help herself. Wit was one of her skills and one of her best emotional defenses.  
  
"Thought you didn't want me to move," she quipped wryly. In response, Deleana cocked back the pistol and Max stiffened.  
  
"NOT a good time to get smart with me, Max."  
  
"Point taken," she said with a gulp. They stood there for a moment, staring each other down, Deleana shifting her weight back and forth between each foot. And then a strange grin spread over her face and she was giggling manically, a reaction Max had seen and learned about early on in her Manticore days. Weak people acted this way when they were deathly nervous and afraid. It was their pathetic way of dealing with unpleasant emotion. It was a way of reassuring oneself when nothing truly offered any sort of reassurance.  
  
"I knew it from the beginning," Deleana whispered in a tone that matched her shaky giggles. "I didn't want to believe it, but I should have gone with my instinct and bolted right away. It's too late for that...but oh well, I've got you. And you're not taking me back."  
  
I'm not taking you back? Max rolled the woman's words over in her head, understanding on some level but still unable to make sense of it. "What the hell are you talking about?"  
  
"YOU, you freak!" her attacker screamed. The gun shook wildly and Max detected a cringe, an aversion to the word "freak." It hurt her to say it; she used it for effect, not because she truly meant it. Information compounded in Max's mind but she as yet could arrive at no conclusions. She felt blocked and free at the same time, connected and distant, and her brilliant mind didn't seem able to serve its purpose in this case. Was there something else on which she must rely? All her training and experience told her that it was wrong to go by emotion on something like this, and even though she was an advocate of acting human and as more than a soldier she agreed with that lesson. To think through a difficult situation you needed to analyze it objectively, and any sort of sentiment clouded that.  
  
She tried to think of something really smart to say, something that would help her but all she could manage was "freak?"  
  
Deleana nodded. "Don't think I don't know what you are...who sent you? That Lydecker bastard? He would, fucking sadist..." It was all so clear. She was right. Dammit, she was right.  
  
"Okay..." Thoughts streamed through Max's mind and she struggled to put the pieces together, knowing something but not knowing it. "I get that part. You were a surrogate, right?" she offered. To her surprise, the woman laughed...deep and hearty, but chillingly bitter and sorrowful.  
  
"You don't even know! They probably wiped it right out."  
  
"Wiped WHAT out?" Why did she have to be so goddamn cryptic about everything?  
  
"That's the point!" She was practically hyperventilating at this point, shaking violently with her eyes misting over, the beginnings of a flood of tears trying to poke through. Some amount of sense that Max had suddenly regained finally rendered clear the obvious truth, that Deleana truly did not want to kill her, that she was trying to steel herself enough to have the strength to go through with it but that it wasn't working, so she was trying to think of a way to get out of this. Max relaxed slightly and renewed confidence swept over her, but the crazy lady with the gun wasn't the only one currently uncertain how to handle the situation. Every course of action Max considered seemed so strangely wrong. She could grab the gun, she was fast enough...but she didn't want to. She didn't want to hurt Deleana and she felt like something important was to come out of this. And then the outer edge of the puzzle came together and it seemed so simple; since this woman was a surrogate, had they once seen each other? Was that why everything had felt so wrong this entire time? She inched forward slightly, raising her hand to plead for release of the gun, Deleana's eyes darting from Max's eyes to her feet.  
  
"Okay...look, Dee, if..."  
  
"Don't call me that!" she screamed, taking Max aback. "You're not allowed to call me that!"  
  
"All right, all right. Just...calm down." She advanced further and Deleana waved the gun frantically, feeling as though she were starting to lose control of the situation and not liking it one bit.  
  
"I told you not to move! I'll shoot you! Christ, I'll unload the whole clip in you!"  
  
It was just aggravation, now. She was so weak, this woman. So disappointingly weak, and remaining calm wasn't going to get either of them anywhere. It was time to switch tactics. It was time to go for the throat.  
  
"Oh, is that so?" Max snarled, daring to cross the line over which she knew she might never return. "Well, then why haven't you done it already, huh? What're you waiting for?" Deleana wavered and Max felt the danger but also felt the hope, so she resolved to play it out.   
  
"Shoot me," she challenged. "C'mon. I'm a freak, shoot me."  
  
What the hell...? Deleana's tears fell steadily now and all that existed was anguish; should she do it? Should she ignore what she felt and do as ordered? It might very well save her life, but...  
  
"What's a matter?! What're you waiting for?! Eyes Only is a cover! I'm here to take you back to Manticore, you disobediant slut, so get it the hell over with!"  
  
She was sliding, slipping away. She felt it. The floor was coming up to meet her and she wound her finger around the trigger, trying desperately and forcing the emotions to the background, where she could deal with them later. This is about survival. YOUR survival. Do it, would you? She might not be lying...she might not be lying...  
  
"Shoot me! Shoot me, you stupid bitch!"  
  
For an instant there was nothing and her finger hooked around the smooth protrusion, fitting so perfectly and feeling so right. But the cold was too cold and the gun dropped from her icy fingers, sobs wracking her body and tears streaming out in torrents as she finally fell to her knees.  
  
"I can't," sobbed Deleana and she wrapped her arms tightly around her body, pleading for everything that she felt to go away. Max stood awkwardly staring down at her, figuring that she should probably feel good about having won but instead feeling awful and wanting to wrap her arms around the woman who weeped before her. When Deleana found the strength to speak again, Max had lost it, and everything was spinning and clicking into place and she felt things that even now she didn't know how to handle. "452...my little 452."  
  
  
~~~FLASHBACK~~~  
"452...my little 452."  
  
"The others in my barracks call me Max. You can call me Max, too."  
  
"Okay...Max."  
  
"Do you have a name?"  
  
"Yeah...Kristina."  
  
"Hello, Kristina."  
~~~END FLASHBACK~~~  
  
  
Max, too, fell to her knees, realization consuming everything. This woman wasn't just a surrogate. It was HER surrogate. And that woman she had been told to forget, who had come to her so many years ago wasn't just a random woman. It was her mother.  
  
Hard exteriors crumbled, and for long moments they kneeled there, four or so feet apart, not even touching -- crying separately, because after almost two decades they were finally together.  
*******  
  
Post.Script: So who wins for correct speculation? Well...you're all gonna have to share that title, because just about everyone guessed correctly.  
  
I must warn that I'm having a little trouble in regards to the next few chapters...I'm going to try to have chapter 7 up by Sunday but I can't make any promises, and of course without reviews it's no deal, heh. 


	7. Seven

A/N: Ahhh sorry it took so long, you guys! There's been much hectic-ness in my life and, well, I'm having some trouble putting together the last few chapters. Many many apologies.   
  
I should have it done by next Friday, though. In fact, I'm pushing for next Friday cuz I want to qualify for the Pulse Awards, lol. Love them, for they shall help provide you with quicker updates! Tee hee.  
  
Anywho...the purpose of this chapter is pretty to clear some things up, so be confuzzled no more.  
*******   
  
  
"...so I changed my name from Kristina Santos to Deleana Hererra and I've managed to keep one step ahead of them ever since. Until now, that is."  
  
She sucked in an emotional breath and looked down into her coffee cup, the liquid within certainly cold by now. It rested between shaky palms that she no longer trusted and so after a quick gulp she rested it safely on the end table by which she sat.   
  
For nearly half an hour she had been sitting anxiously in this armchair in the apartment of the great Eyes Only himself, going quietly over the events that had led to now; her reasons for entering the program, Manticore's idea to keep the surrogates indefinitely for future use, the escape of she and four others with the help of a sympathetic guard. And it had been difficult to relate it all but she had gotten through it, relieved to have finally found an outlet for everything she had kept inside for so long and overjoyed, of course, to have finally found her daughter. Since the first time she had felt Max kick - hard and strong like the woman who now sat before her on the edge of the couch - she had known a driving and intense brand of motherly love. And since she had given birth, gone through the motions but never allowed even the chance to hold the child that should undeniably be hers, she had wanted to rescue that child and become a family. She had known at that point what kind of life Max would be forced into and for the first couple of years all that mattered was taking her away from it. So now she was proud. Her efforts might have failed, but Max had gotten out anyway and learned to be human on her own, and for that Deleana loved her all the more.  
  
That's who she was now; Deleana. Kristina had been left in the mock-up of a doctor's office in which she had waited before the nightmare began. The road to Deleana was paved with misery but it must accepted. Who she had become must be accepted.  
  
She raised her eyes to meet those of Max, the daughter for whom she had longed for so long, who leaned furtively toward her as Eyes Only tenderly rubbed her back and looked as though he felt wholly out of place - which he did. For Max he had finally allowed Deleana to come here, for Max he had forsaken his identity, for Max he now sat as what amounted to an awkward bystander. Some pretty heavy-duty stuff was involved, stuff with which he would have to deal if he expected to keep Deleana safe, but the sharing between she and Max that had gone on for the last hour or so seemed a very personal thing and he didn't think he belonged. Reverently, he had moved to stand and walk away and leave the two women alone, but Max had grabbed his hand and implored that he stay, "for support." Yeah right; he felt more like a third leg, a nuisance.  
  
Max was thankful for his presence, however; it was hard to feel but just his being there somehow gave her the strength to do so. And now she reached for the hand of her mother, her MOTHER, and squeezed it and was so overcome that she had to lean back slightly into Logan and borrow composure from him. It was remarkable and unbelievable and wonderful and terrifying, the revealations that compounded and filled this day; she had a mother, a real mother who cared about her and now she knew her and as it turns out they'd even met once before this. This woman had risked severity to see Max, and though it had grown quite foggy Max still held the memory of that meeting deep in the catacombs of her mind.  
  
"I...I remember you," she eventually whispered, still holding her mother's hand. "That night in the hall when you came to see me, after I came back late from a lesson."  
  
Deleana shook her head in disbelief. "How could you remember that? You couldn't have been much older than two."  
  
"Remember what I am, Mom," Max replied simply with a sad, ironic smile. Deleana smiled in the same manner.  
  
"Oh...right."  
  
"I was always so confused about it," Max continued as the events of that night came flooding back. "I thought I made a new friend, and I couldn't understand why they dragged you away and why you were screaming. Someone grabbed me and pulled me into my barracks and then he smacked me and told me I was only supposed to talk to officers and medical personnel. I asked him about you and why I wasn't supposed to talk to you, and he smacked me again and told me if I wanted to be a good soldier I had to mind my own business. So that's what I did. I put it out of my mind and I didn't think about it again until you showed up. I guess...in some ways, I recognized you at the library, but I didn't really pay attention to that cuz it never seemed important."  
  
"I recognized you, too. I thought I was just going crazy, though. And I didn't wanna say anything because I was afraid it was a trap or that you'd think I was crazy and wouldn't want to deal with me anymore."  
  
"I'd never do that," Max assured her quietly. "Well...maybe I would've like a year ago, but..." She looked over her shoulder to glance adoringly at Logan and he filled with pride and love as Deleana assessed their relationship, as she'd been doing the entire time. They seemed to compliment each other well and she was happy that Max had found this, something Deleana herself would probably never get to have. It was too risky and would involve too much drama and it was too late for her to start looking, anyway. She hadn't seriously persued a romantic relationship since high school and now she was pretty much okay with the idea of never having one. Besides, now she had a daughter to love and a legend to cherish and that would be enough.  
  
She smiled at the way the couple looked at each other and then let her gaze fall upon the rest of the apartment, lingering specifically on a room which opened to the hallway and which she was in perfect position to see clearly. The bathtub beckoned to her and she tried to remember the last time she had actually been in one; she must have been only six or seven. Longing both for the relaxation that such were rumored to deliver and for something to remind her of a time when life didn't seem so much like a rotten, endless chore, she stood rather abruptly and grinned sheepishly at Logan.  
  
"Well, if you don't mind...I think I'm going to take a bath. That's all right, isn't it?" she asked, feeling extraordinarily young and silly.  
  
"Go right ahead," Logan replied with a smile and chuckled lightly at the way she headed almost giddily to the bathroom. Then he settled back into the couch and let Max settle into him, relishing the comfort brought by the heat of her body against his. He wouldn't let on, but he was relieved that Deleana had left and that now they were alone, for the same reasons he himself had wanted to leave before. In some ways, he supposed he felt like this because he couldn't really relate to either of them; that, afterall, was one of the reasons he was so uncomfortable with having Zack around. It was obvious how Zack really felt, and since he not only knew Max's history but had also experienced much of it right along with her, if ever he decided to let himself feel Logan feared that it would be to him that Max would run. Whereas Logan could only listen and nod, Zack could actually offer sound advice when Max was having the kind of problem that only transgenics have because he himself was a transgenic. And that scared Logan more than he liked to admit.  
  
As she snuggled against him and smiled contentedly into his neck, though, he realized how silly he was being and tried to shake away the feeling of being left out. He might not be able to relate to her, but it was clear that she wanted him around and that she wanted him to be a part of her broken world. Why couldn't he just accept that and quit acting like a self-pitying fool?  
  
"Thank you," she whispered suddenly. He moved his hand up to tangle in her hair.  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For letting her stay here," she answered. "I know you aren't too cool with it."  
  
He tensed slightly but not enough to cause alarm; he wasn't acting that weird about the whole thing, was he? "Well...she's your mother. It's the least I could do."  
  
She let out a quick, girlish giggle. "Such short notice, too, you poor thing. After we pulled ourselves together, I practically dragged her outta there. I didn't even call 'till we were halfway here. I started dialing on the motorcycle but she flipped out and made me pull over."  
  
"Good thing, too. Wouldn't want you to be road kill."  
  
"Yeah, that would kinda suck, wouldn't it?" she quipped. "Aw shit...ya know, I just realized I was in such a rush that we left all her stuff back at the safe house."  
  
"Guess you'll have to bring her back to get it then." It was a pathetically obvious thing to say and he felt lame for it, but oh well. She was trailing her finger down his chest and lightly nuzzling his neck and that was all that mattered at the moment.  
  
"Mmm hmm," she mumbled. "But, in the meantime..." She then nipped his skin lightly and slipped her hand under his sweater and though he felt himself respond, a wary eye wandered toward the closed bathroom door, his mind rebelling against his nerves.  
  
"Max...your mom," he breathed as her tongue darted out to circle his ear. It always seemed to come to this...he couldn't remember ever having been in a relationship like this, where they seemed never able to get enough of one another, and for some reason that excited him all the more.  
  
Max chuckled. "What, you think she's gonna draw the bath, get in, say 'well that was nice' and get out all in the course of five minutes? We have plenty of time."  
  
He shook his head and then gave in, turning to claim her lips and sweeping her mouth before pulling away with a smile. "Max, you are insatiable."  
  
She put on a feline grin for him and hoisted herself up to straddle his lap. "What can I say? If life is a bathtub, sex with you is the water..." 


	8. Eight

Everything was a blur and Deleana tightened her grip on Max's waist and buried her head into the younger girl's shoulder, feeling often as though she were going to fall off the bike and take up residence with the crushed squirrels and other such animals that appeared on the road every now and then. She would have much preferred to go in Logan's vehicle, or perhaps to forsake what belongings had been left behind at the safe house altogether. Anything would have been welcome to teetering on the edge of death, which she were certain one was doing when riding a motorcycle.   
  
"I'll never get used to this," she muttered, shutting her eyes and pretending she were somewhere else.  
  
Max's body shook slightly from the force of her giggles and she shook her head at the woman seated behind her. "Thought you were tough, Mom," she commented. Oh, that felt so good...being able to say the word "mom" with some actual meaning attached to it. Not in jest, to make fun of someone demanding that their friends act more reserved, but because it truly was her mother. Oh, the world may be broken but today it was beautiful.  
  
"I'm tough because I kill when I have to," Deleana shouted back a few seconds later. "I'm tough because I don't take any nonsense and I know how to get my way. I'm tough because I don't run unless it's the only workable option available. But being tough doesn't mean you never get scared."  
  
Flashes of the Red fiasco returned to Max; "you don't have to tell me to be afraid. I'm already there." Yes, such was true. Truthfully, she found herself scared all the time, in more ways than one. Maybe being tough truly meant that you did what you had to even when you were scared. In any case, she simply nodded after that and kept relatively silent the rest of the way there, a silent display of her agreement.  
  
*******  
  
They had come rather quickly the day before because they were afraid of getting there too late and not being able to intercept, and they had remained in wait because they feared that busting in prematurely would leave prominent physical warning on the outside. They could of course take their time breaking in, but if they had come too late than such would allow the target sufficient time to figure out what was going on and find a way to escape or prepare for defense. These chances could not be taken, and so they sat, watching, growing tired and skeptical.  
  
Hollander continued to insist, though. He knew what he'd seen and he was certain that the end was near and that soon it would be over and they would be sent home with handsome rewards.  
  
"I saw her leave," he stated for what seemed the hundredth time.  
  
"Well, maybe she left for good. Did that possibility ever enter your mind?"  
  
He sighed. "No...I guess it didn't. I just assumed she'd come back."  
  
"Well, wonderful. Once again, thanks to paranoia and assumption, we've been deployed on yet another routinely pointless mission. My retirement pension could not come any sooner."  
  
"I'm sorry. But whether or not I'm right, we've been ordered to not take any chances. There's a heightened risk of security leak in a situation like this, you know. If she raps up with..."  
  
"Hey!" someone whispered forcefully. "Look!"  
  
The group hunched together and peered over the log to the building, and a smug grin spread across Hollander's face.  
  
"Still care to grace us with your cynicism, Sanderson?"   
  
Sanderson rolled his eyes and swallowed his earlier frustrations. "Shut up and move out."  
  
*******  
  
They drove up, Max pulling in as close as possible to the safe house and forgoing her daredevil nature for a slow, secure stop that catered to her mother's nerves. Deleana stepped off shakily, grateful to be back on solid ground, and quickly stoned herself and got over it. No sense dwelling, especially since this respite from the vehicle would be brief.  
  
Max rightly allowed the woman to move ahead of her and hung back momentarily when her senses suddenly magnified. Her eyes swept the surrounding forest and dilated here and there, ears straining to pick up anything, any slight hint of movement. But then whatever it was that she had thought she'd heard was gone, so she shrugged and dismissed it as being some animal and followed her mother into the building.  
  
Deleana was already collecting her things and stuffing them into her solitary duffel bag when Max entered. The gun, items of clothing still strewn across the room, a couple magazines, a book or two...so few were her belongings that this excursion suddenly seemed pointless, but whatever. Max took her place by the door and felt so laughably as though she'd been reduced to a watchdog that she almost released a low chuckle.  
  
And then there it was again, the same sound that had caught her attention before only closer and everything became surreal as she pressed against the door and strained to figure out what it was, everything narrowing and coming into focus and cautious fear causing her heart to pump in overtime. The sense that made her what she was, centralized and acute, revealed location seconds later and she exhaled slow and steady, aware of reality with a sinking heart and there was no time to move, only time to think.  
  
Oh shit.  
  
In an instant she was on the floor, the door on top of her, and she was crushed by the stampede of heavy boots that fell into the room. She called out, as both warning to Deleana and reaction to the pain, pressure on her spine and shoulder blades and once, briefly, on her head. Her vision was obstructed by the way in which her head was turned, half of her face pinned to the ground and her nose bent oddly and painfully to the side - oh please let it not be broken - and the bedside table was in her direct line of sight beyond the foot of one of the soldiers. Crazy intense selfless fear was rushing through her and she hated that she couldn't see, that when she tried to turn her head there was too much resistance and unbearable pain that shot acidly through her veins and forced shallow whimpers past her lips. Oh god mother, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I failed you, I'm sorry, please don't let them kill her, I'll do anything...  
  
She squirmed and the soldiers, who had noticed her presence, sadistically held themselves on top of her and pointed their guns at Deleana, who remained on her knees by the bag and tried to think, tried to be the tough chick she was supposed to be, tried to ignore everything awful she was feeling at the moment. With granite resolve she looked up into their faces and pushed down the compulsion to vomit when the apparent leader smiled grimly down at her.  
  
"Ah, Kristina Santos," he said. "Time to go home."  
*******  
  
Post.Script: Raaaaah another cliffhanger! Evil evil evil me. Yup. Anyway, I started 'The Road to Deleana' (prequel!)... 'tis angsty up the wazoo. And I got this really spiff idea for a ship-tastic semi-sequel tentatively called 'The Bet.' So, er...YAY (I hope)! 


	9. Nine

"Tense" couldn't begin to describe the atmosphere of the room.  
  
Max remained pinned under the door, struggling to lift the four men above her but having no such luck. Sure, their balance was upset somewhat, but they were able to recover rather quickly and it soon became evident that there was no use in trying. There were some weights that even an X-5 couldn't lift.  
  
Deleana, meanwhile, was now slowly maneuvering herself in front of her bag as two of the soldiers approached, her hand slipping surreptitiously into it. Without thought, she knew that it was a dangerous move, and she was aware of the fact that though it would be beneficial to bring her in alive they had the authority to kill her and would do so if the need arose. It was, indeed, a great risk; but risks must be taken in cases such as this, when the woman to whom you gave birth is writhing helplessly on the floor, the red stain beneath her cheek glaring as physical evidence of the pain being endured. And if the secret was uncovered, which it undoubtedly would be, that woman would be subdued and dragged back to her own personal version of hell and forced into only a shell of who she was at present, the life that she had worked ten long years to build slipping quietly out the window without so much as a whispered "good-bye." No, it wasn't Deleana's own life that mattered at this point; if her life were to be taken, fine, it wouldn't be so bad. But Max's case was more literal, and though she'd probably live it would be a life of servitude and hardship and pain, and that couldn't be allowed to happen.   
  
The soldiers bent down and roughly lifted Deleana to her feet, each holding a single elbow. She fell into a state of perceived submission for a moment, apprehension sparking hesitation. There was no such thing as fearlessness, she was sure of it now. Everyone, everywhere, no matter what, felt afraid before they had to do something so decisive, something that could completely change the outcome of the situation with which they were presented. They may not admit to it, but somewhere deep down it was felt, somewhere that they'd rather not have exist. The difference was that the brave, the tough, did it anyway. They swallowed their feelings and acted, because they knew that the implications of giving in were always worse than at least trying to make a difference. If you don't try you can't escape, and then you have no right to complain, because you went quietly and did nothing to stop it.  
  
So then, just as she felt the eyes of the soldiers burning into her hand, heard their gasps and the beginnings of the word "drop it," she yanked her left arm free, cocked pack the pistol and opened fire, wild, only with care not to hit Max. The soldier who had been on her left fell dead and to her delight, right before the right-hand soldier's elbow made contact with her skull and a bullet punctured her hand and knocked her gun to the floor, those standing atop the door scattered and Max instinctually leapt to her feet.  
  
The girl was impressed with her mother's display, but not entirely surprised. If you're not born with balls, a couple years on the run will give them to you, and Deleana had spent nearly two decades dodging proverbial bullets. In any case, Max was briefly happy but then rapidly switched gears into attack mode, focusing first on the disarmament of her foes. Norm soldiers had never really been that adept in hand-to-hand combat; what little skill they had was utilized in weaponry and simple primitive grappling techniques. The really cool stuff was left to the transgenics, who had been built for such purposes anyway and therefore could handle martial artistry and the like far better. Norms were the muscle, X-kids were the grace and the speed and the agility. Apparently Manticore had never actually considered the possibility that one day a norm might have to go up against an "insubordinate" X-5 and so had not prepared for such an event.  
  
The guns of those who had so kindly aided in breaking her nose quickly fell to the floor and she made short work of tossing them out the door, smiling coyly and almost laughing at the frightened way they now looked at her. Yeah boys, that's right, I'm X-5 and now ya got no weapons. Sucks for you, don't it?  
  
She planted her foot in the chest of the closest one, sending him flying into the bookcase. He stumbled but kept on his feet and for some reason he thought he still had a chance; he rushed toward her, in a manner that she deemed comical, and with a spin and a kick her ankle hooked around his neck and he dropped like the insect he was. She then took advantage of the wall and flipped behind two others, dropping to the ground and sweeping out their feet. Deciding to add insult to injury and get herself a healthy dose of payback in the process, she took a few seconds to grind her heel into each of their noses. They emitted muffled whimpers of pain and she shook her head at them, like a scolding mother; pathetic.   
  
As this went on, a now unconscious Deleana was dragged behind the bed for safekeeping, her hand bleeding profusely and an ugly yellow bruise spreading over the temple on which she'd been hit. The soldier all but threw her to the ground, pissed and aggravated as he was, and then he stepped out and turned his attention toward the dangerous being wrecking havoc on his fellows. It was obvious what she was so he wasn't about to get too close but she had to be stopped somehow so he raised his gun and tried to aim; not so easy when one of his own was still standing, but necessary.  
  
He opened fire just as Max caught sight of the weapon and inwardly berated herself for having been so stupid as to forget this particular soldier's existence. She reacted deftly, with the tact only known by people of her kind, and swept her arm around the neck of the fourth idiot responsible for nearly crushing her. She held him in front of her for a few seconds; long enough for his vest to fill with bullets before his companion realized what had happened. Then her knee was high up, placed between his shoulder blades, fully extended at an impossible speed to send him stumbling into the other soldier, and thereafter they both collapsed clumsily to the floor. Swiftly, Max was on them like a vulture, heavy arms and feet assuring that they wouldn't get back up again, at least not until they'd had some measure of respite.  
  
Breathing heavily, she surveyed her damage, returning briefly to the soldiers with the broken noses when they began to pull themselves back up to their feet.  
  
"Ugh, stay down!" she commanded, slamming the side of her palm hard into the neck of one of them, with dead-on accuracy in regards to the man's pressure point. He fell into unconsciousness and his body crumpled limply under itself, and then she jumped up to swing her foot hard into the head of the other, dooming him to a similar fate.   
  
Satisfied, she smiled at the fruits of her labor and brushed her hands together before reaching up to snap her nose back into its proper position. She winced slightly but still felt pretty damn good about herself. Another importance soon washed away the thrill of victory, though; where was Deleana? Max's head whipped around, her soul awash with the fear and worry one only feels when they love someone, the bodies strewn around the room disappearing from her mind because they no longer held any weight. The pistol on the floor caught her eye, the same one with which she'd almost been shot the day before, and with X-5 haste she bounded across the bed and fell hard to the floor when her inertia kept her moving, her back slamming against the radiator. She shook her head to away with the shock and slowly pushed herself up on her palms. And then there was sight; her mother lay awkwardly against the hardwood, temple discolored and hand disfigured thanks to the ministrations of a bullet, shirt stained with the blood of that wound and eyes fluttering, trying to open.  
  
She wanted to cry. She wanted so badly to cry that she couldn't understand. Deleana was breathing, she was alive, there's nothing to worry about...so why was Max so afraid? Why was a large, unbearable lump forming in her throat and pleading desperately for release? Why did it hurt so goddamn much?  
  
Her heart raced as she bent over her mother and tenderly gathered the woman into her arms, lifting gently with care to support the head. There was no telling the extent of the injury that had been caused...maybe that's why she was shaking with such fear. No bother, don't think about it right now, only act. Deleana was deposited onto the bed and straightened and for long moments it was impossible to do anything constructive, hands clasping and unclasping, one foot forward and the other back over and over as Max tried to clear her head. There was no way that her mother could be transported back to Logan's place on the bike, not like this. Even if she awoke it was likely she'd be too out of it to...oh god, what if she had a concussion? Quickly, in the fashion almost of one in the throes of hyperventilation, Max began trying to wake Deleana, shaking her forcefully while trying to stay aware of the fact that this woman was only human and that too much force would only do her harm. That got lost somewhere when she wouldn't wake up, when her eyelids only jumped and sputtered without actually lifting, and the lump finally forced its way out and Max truly was hysterical, so scared and so frustrated that now through her tears she was screaming curses and oaths of damnation and periodically pounding the bed with her fists.   
  
"Wake up you stupid bitch! Wake the fuck up! You can't leave me just after I found you. If you leave me I'll never forgive you. Do you hear me? I'll never fucking forgive you!"  
  
She heard a spring pop and she didn't care; there were more important things to worry about.  
  
"WAKE UP! Wake up, wake up, WAKE UP! Or are you just a selfish slut, huh? All that shit about loving me more than anything...you don't wake up, that means you didn't mean any of it. You didn't want me, and I don't want you. You're a worthless street whore, that's all you are, that's all you were, that's all you'll be if you don't...fucking...wake...up!" She collapsed in heart wrenching sobs and her actions lost their ferocity and their power, succumbing just as her eyes and her voice were to the waterfall that had erupted. "Please," she begged, weeping. "Please, mom. Don't leave me. Please."  
  
She lost the will to move or to speak after that and curled into some manner of a ball, her head bowed and pressed into the mattress, knees curled under and digging into her chest, back arched with the outline of her spine poking slightly through her shirt and pointing proudly toward the ceiling. Her hands grasped the quilt beneath her so vehemently that her knuckles turned white; she was gone. Only yesterday Max had found her mother and now she was gone, slipping away into a concussion-induced coma that could only eventually lead to death. Oh, there was always the possibility of a miracle, but... "miracle" might as well be synonymous with "fairy tale," so she deluded herself into the mindset of the hopeless and wept until the bed sheets were soaked.  
  
She wanted to hear the voice. She wanted to hear it so badly that her stomach ached, but sense told her that at this point it was next to impossible, so she didn't believe it when it actually crashed against the walls of her ears. But then there it was again, and the tears were shocked away.  
  
She moved her head just enough to peer up, toward the sleeping woman beside her that might as well be pronounced dead, and unbelievable sensation rushed through her.  
  
"Max?"  
  
"M...mom?"  
  
Deleana blinked her eyes and the blur melted into the white of a familiar ceiling. Pain shot through her when she tried to move her head so she kept it stationary and instead called out for her daughter and felt around with her hand, pleased to find that she seemed to be safe in bed, and then equally pleased when her hand brushed through the smooth curls that could only be identified as belonging to Max.  
  
"Of course...Max..."  
  
She was caught up in a powerful embrace in the next instant and on her neck she felt saline as along her length she felt the convulsions that accompany tears. Instinctively she reached up to smooth her child's hair and for the first time she truly felt like the mother she was supposed to be.  
  
"Max? What's wrong?"  
  
"I thought I'd lost you."   
  
It was the only thing she could say. The only thing that needed to be said, and for long moments they simply lay there, Max letting herself experience emotions that until now she thought she only had for Original Cindy and Logan and Deleana taking pride in the knowledge that her daughter loved her so very deeply, and that all that had led to now hadn't been in vain.  
*******  
  
Post.Script: Yeah, Sibelius, you're right...it IS almost the end. In fact, the next chapter is the last, heh. I'm so excited I can hardly contain myself. That's two, people! Two chapter stories I've completed. Fanfiction is seriously one of the best thing's that's ever happened to me in regards to writing...I could hardly finish a short story two years ago, let alone something like this. Wow. Anyway, thanks you guys. You give me the motivation to keep on writing and inspire like you wouldn't believe. :) 


	10. Ten

They sat again at a slight angle from each other, one on the couch and the other in the chair, but this time with he standing aside, by his equipment, simply watching the scene unfold. It broke both of their hearts and he knew it because it was breaking his own, but he also knew that both were aware as he was of the dangers of catering to those emotions, and he hoped that they would use the prospect of Deleana's safety and survival to draw strength and courage. Willfully saying good-bye to a mother or a child with the knowledge that you may never meet again is never easy, but if the reasons are prominent enough, steel could be put to good use.  
  
Regardless, it was still cold and hard and naturally both women were searching for the opposite right now. It hadn't been enough time. Hell, it could never be enough...a year could have slipped into yesterday and still "farewell" would be as hard to utter as it presently was. There had been revelation and there had been survival but still they were being torn apart and it didn't seem fair.  
  
Well, hope is for losers, remember Max?  
  
She sighed and bowed her head dejectedly. It's a con job. That's what I used to think. That's what I used to believe, that's what used to keep me apart.  
  
She looked to Logan then and around the penthouse that had become like her second home, and finally met her mother's eyes once again and remembered how unnerved she had been the first time she was allowed passage into them. Fate was delivering a cruel blow at the moment but part of this had been lucky, hadn't it? And it was lucky that she had crossed paths with Zack. And it was lucky that she had gotten a chance to see Brin again, no matter for how briefly it had been.  
  
Yes, that's how I used to be. But maybe I'm changing.  
  
She smiled reassuringly at Deleana and took the woman's hand in her own, so much so like she had done back when everything that needed to be said had finally been said and all the pertinent discoveries had been made. Her mother tried to mirror the expressions but instead fell prey to her tears and resented them for coming accompanied with a dull throb around her temples. She had, indeed, suffered from a minor concussion, and though it was fading fast a measure of pain still persisted, the state of her badly wounded left hand not helping in the least. All irritating when you now have to deal with emotional anguish as well. Not that they hadn't both known a week ago that this day would inevitably come, that Deleana would have to be shipped off to a more secure location after the confrontation in the safe house. As all other things, that knowledge didn't make the actual event any less difficult.  
  
Max reached forward and wrapped her arms tenderly around Deleana, resting her head on the woman's shoulder, playing both perfectly and sincerely the role of the deeply loving daughter. The affection momentarily drove her to tears as well and she wanted to forget the people Logan had contacted and keep her mother here, like this, in her arms forever. However, sense won out and she recognized that as being a good thing, the same as she had recently recognized the fortune of having met her mother at all. She pulled away and Deleana reached up to brush a charcoal lock behind Max's ear.  
  
"It'll be okay," Max whispered. "And even if it's not, it has to be done. Then...maybe someday, when things calm down a little, we can rap up again."  
  
Oh, whom was she kidding? Things would never calm down...but Zack HAD continued showing up before the plane crash, so maybe it was possible. She now hung onto that same hope she had so distrusted in the past with every fiber of her being and vowed silently never to let go of it or to give up because if she had her way, they WOULD see each other again. And such goals can't be realized if you're too cynical and afraid to take some risks.  
  
"I hope you're right," Deleana returned with a sad smile. "I hope so badly that you're right."  
  
They hugged again and then soon after the drive had been taken, the transfer made and she was gone, off to the nationwide haven that post-Pulse Canada had become.  
  
*******  
  
They lay entangled in each other's arms and for once she didn't feel like sex and that was okay, because sex didn't exactly seem appropriate at the moment anyway. Right now she needed him for the more, and she was glad for it and no longer found it a confusing and difficult part of relationships. It was amazing how one chance encounter and one nearly earth-shattering event could completely rearrange everything, amazing and wonderful.  
  
Logan was amazing and wonderful. Not just in bed (oh that was great, without a doubt), but because now he was holding her and stroking her hair and she didn't even have to say anything; he understood. He completely understood her, something no one else had bothered to take the time to do. Zack knew her DNA but he couldn't grasp the person she was and that's why Logan won out. Sure, she loved Zack; he was her big brother, he'd always have a place especially designated for him. But if he were to come back and try to be a constant fixture in her life, if he wanted her to run across the border with him, he had to first see where she stood. So far he had been too preoccupied with looking over her head to do that.  
  
She snuggled harder into her lover and took in his scent, letting it wash over her and engulf her and soothe away the pain of giving up her mother. It was fresh and it burned but it wasn't as bad as it could have been; now she knew how to deal with it.   
  
And maybe everything was for the best. Maybe it was going the way it was supposed to go. What was it that Logan's grandmother had said? "The universe is right on schedule."  
  
She chuckled slightly and he responded by pulling her in even closer, wrapping her even tighter in himself.  
  
Or maybe, maybe it's just what we make of it. Maybe it's all a matter of seeing things with the right perspective.  
  
She drifted off sometime soon after, and for once her slumber was devoid of nightmares.  
  
FIN  
*******  
  
Post.Script: Rah, 'tis the end. I'm thinking I should have the first chapter of 'The Road to Deleana' up fairly quickly...the shiptastic-ness still needs an outline, though (right now I only have the basic plot in mind), so that'll take a little longer in coming but I'm finally out of school so until I find a job I'll have a hell of a lot more time to write for you guys, heh. But um...on that front I have to warn that after two years of mulling over an original idea I had, I've finally gotten the will and the courage to start on it (partly in thanks to you people, I'll admit it :)), and that is gonna receive top priority, because while fanfic can only be displayed, this story can actually be published and I DO want to be a writer. So um...yeeeeeeeeeeah. Who knows, though? This place DOES have an originals section... *thoughtful stroking of chin*  
  
But thanks a lot you guys, especially to you who kept up with it the whole way through. I know it's been said(*sings* many times, many ways, Merry Chri...oh, right), but hey, you guys keep me going. :) 


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